No More Learning

' quod these egles tercels tho. 540
Nay, sirs! ' quod he, 'if that I dorste it seye,
Ye doon me wrong, my tale is not y-do!
For sirs, ne taketh noght a-gref, I preye,
It may noght gon, as ye wolde, in this weye;
Oure is the voys that han the charge in honde, 545
And to the Iuges dome ye moten stonde;

And therfor pees! I seye, as to my wit,
Me wolde thinke how that the worthieste
Of knighthode, and lengest hath used hit,
Moste of estat, of blode the gentileste, 550
Were sittingest for hir, if that hir leste;
And of these three she wot hir-self, I trowe,
Which that he be, for hit is light to knowe. '

The water-foules han her hedes leyd
Togeder, and of short avysement, 555
Whan everich had his large golee seyd,
They seyden sothly, al by oon assent,
How that 'the goos, with hir facounde gent,
That so desyreth to pronounce our nede,
Shal telle our tale,' and preyde 'god hir spede. ' 560

And for these water-foules tho began
The goos to speke, and in hir cakelinge
She seyde, 'pees! now tak kepe every man,
And herkeneth which a reson I shal bringe;
My wit is sharp, I love no taryinge; 565
I seye, I rede him, though he were my brother,
But she wol love him, lat him love another! '

Lo here! a parfit reson of a goos! '
Quod the sperhauk; 'never mot she thee!
Lo, swich hit is to have a tonge loos! 570
Now parde, fool, yet were hit bet for thee
Have holde thy pees, than shewed thy nycete!
Hit lyth not in his wit nor in his wille,
But sooth is seyd, "a fool can noght be stille. "'

The laughter aroos of gentil foules alle, 575
And right anoon the seed-foul chosen hadde
The turtel trewe, and gunne hir to hem calle,
And preyden hir to seye the sothe sadde
Of this matere, and asked what she radde;
And she answerde, that pleynly hir entente 580
She wolde shewe, and sothly what she mente.
Nay, god forbede a lover shulde chaunge! '
The turtel seyde, and wex for shame al reed;
Thogh that his lady ever-more be straunge,
Yet let him serve hir ever, til he be deed; 585
For sothe, I preyse noght the gooses reed;
For thogh she deyed, I wolde non other make,
I wol ben hires, til that the deth me take. '

Wel bourded! ' quod the doke, 'by my hat!
That men shulde alwey loven, causeles, 590
Who can a reson finde or wit in that?
Daunceth he mury that is mirtheles?
Who shulde recche of that is reccheles?
Ye, quek! ' yit quod the doke, ful wel and faire,
'There been mo sterres, god wot, than a paire! ' 595

Now fy, cherl! ' quod the gentil tercelet,
Out of the dunghil com that word ful right,
Thou canst noght see which thing is wel be-set:
Thou farest by love as oules doon by light,
The day hem blent, ful wel they see by night; 600
Thy kind is of so lowe a wrechednesse,
That what love is, thou canst nat see ne gesse. '

Tho gan the cukkow putte him forth in prees
For foul that eteth worm, and seide blyve,
'So I,' quod he, 'may have my make in pees, 605
I recche not how longe that ye stryve;
Lat ech of hem be soleyn al hir lyve,
This is my reed, sin they may not acorde;
This shorte lesson nedeth noght recorde. '

'Ye! have the glotoun fild ynogh his paunche, 610
Than are we wel! ' seyde the merlioun;
Thou mordrer of the heysugge on the braunche
That broghte thee forth, thou [rewthelees] glotoun!
Live thou soleyn, wormes corrupcioun!